Beginning's of Truth
by Galleons 'n'Gold
Summary: Harry Potter sacrifices his life for the one's he loves. Something was bound to break when he realized they never were his true friends. Follows a tragic end and a new beginning taking off near end of Book 7. AU. Master of Death and something more...
1. Unusual End

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything from both Harry Potter and Avengers…**

**A/N: **This is my first attempt to write a cross-over. Reviews keep me encouraged to write more. First part of it is a repost and it contains excerpts from the seventh book as well as the speech from the Doctor Who. I wanted to start over. No slash! Edited on 5-12-13.

* * *

The sounds of footsteps could be heard, from a far. The crunches of stones and sticks snapping under the weight of his, accompanied him. The numbness had lifted giving way to clarity and with it, came awareness. His existence weighed upon him, leaving him weak-kneed and light on his feet. The sounds comforted him almost whispering that, they were with him when his soul cried, mourning loss and destruction that the battle brought on his, one true home.

Hogwarts was in rubble. It wasn't a castle that stood tall and proud that had made him feel welcome and lively every year he'd return to her. Survivors gathered together. No one said anything, but the anguished hope in their eyes made him cringe. Weasley's mourned their dead brother, George. Fred was broken, just like him, in more ways than he could compare. Their tightness made him feel unwanted, unneeded. He felt like a true outsider at that moment.

Well, he had always been an outsider.

Everything was ruined, everything was to an end. He eyes searched desperately for company of his friends. He needed them now more than ever. In all his life, there was that silent need for a friend who would stay at his side no matter what. Friends who would say, 'It's okay' or 'shit happens' and he had found them. But he never truly revealed his most fear to anyone.

Being alone.

But it mattered it not. Mud squished beneath leaving imprint. It felt as if, earth marked his presence and noted his soon to be departure. The imprints would soon fade, either by rain or just new marks on the soil. He reasoned, to himself. Just like the rest of the people. World will move on and the hurt of the war, however strong was temporary.

His departure was…permanent. He was truly and utterly defeated. And as the darkness engulfed him, he marveled at this… strange feeling inside. Clarity and purpose. His life was truly at an end.

He was the last piece of the puzzle, the last Horcurx. And he had to die. Harry didn't know what would happen when the last Horcrux price would be destroyed. A chilly breeze that seemed to emanate from the heart of the forest and lifted the hair at Harry's brow.

It was for the 'Greater Good' after all. The next great adventure waited for him. He wondered for the first time in his life about various things, Dumbledore told him, subtly suggested him, reminded him time and again, the value of self-sacrifice. Just like his mother, he would now do it for his friends… in the name of love.

'You raised him like a pig for slaughter.' The truth so true and real.

Harry accepted his role, he was playing. Things were so much clearer in his mind, every action, every purpose Dumbledore did was to make him feel worthless. To make him value friends so high in his opinion that he would do anything and everything for them including dying for them. To make him a martyr.

He really hated that man.

Dumbledore was long gone. Remus was dead. Half the order was dead. Ministry was fallen. Such a large gamble played by Dumbledore on everyone's lives. He could only hope that the gamble would play out, that all was not lost, he hoped for the sake of everyone else.

He took out snitch once more and read the inscription at the middle of the ball.

'I open at the close'.

"I-" Harry's voice cracked. "I am ready to die." He said in a hushed whisper.

A chill of power radiated around him making him feel… full. Leaves rustled. Harry somehow felt that they were excited to witness something. The stone had Paverrel coat of arms on the black colored diamond and the contrast against his pale, white fingers was sharp.

The black stone with its jagged crack running down the center sat in the two halves of the Snitch. The Resurrection Stone had cracked down the vertical line representing the Elder Wand. The triangle and circle representing the Cloak and the stone were still discernible.

He waited holding his breath for something extraordinary to happen. He really had little faith in this tale and it was no wonder to him when nothing happened.

'Master of Death, my arse.' Harry thought with a trace of sarcasm upon tons and tons of underlying grief.

With sagged shoulders, he made his way towards clearing. Some of them were still masked and hooded; others showed their faces. Two giants sat on the outskirts of the group, casting massive shadows over the scene, their faces cruel, rough-hewn like rock.

Harry saw Fenrir, skulking, chewing his long nails; the great blonde Rowle was dabbing at his bleeding lip. He saw Lucius Malfoy, who looked defeated, and terrified, and Narcissa, whose eyes were sunken and full of apprehension.

Every eye was ﬁxed upon Voldemort, who stood with his head bowed, and his white hands folded over the Elder Wand in front of him. He might have prayed, or else counting silently in his mind, and Harry, standing still on the edge of the scene, thought absurdly of a child counting in a game of hide-and-seek.

"I thought he would come," said Voldemort in his high, clear voice, his eyes on the leaping ﬂames. "I expected him to come."

Nobody spoke. They seemed as scared as Harry, whose heart was now throwing itself against his ribs as though determined to escape the body he was about to cast aside. He hands were sweating as he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak and studded it beneath his robes, with his wand. He did not want to be tempted to ﬁght.

"I was, it seems . . . mistaken," said Voldemort.

"You weren't." Harry said in a loud clear voice. His own voice felt so strange, so clear and yet so unemotional in the dead of silence. The death eaters did not move and each and every one of them waited in apprehension. What would occur next?

And still, Voldemort and Harry looked at each other, and now Voldemort tilted his head a little to the side, considering the boy standing before him, and a singularly mirthless smile curled the lipless mouth.

"Harry Potter," he said very softly. His voice might have been part of the splitting ﬁre. "The Boy Who Lived."

"Nothing to say now?" Lord Voldemort asked.

There was absolute silence and the chill around the forest intensified from the Dementors. They formed a tight ring outside, leaving no escape route to him. Harry could hear his own ears ringing. The ring on his fingers vibrated and Harry could distinctly hear a soft roaring sound from everywhere and nowhere. And suddenly, Harry could feel a lone song of a child singing, cut through all the silence. It soon was accompanied by a huge chorus, invisible and yet composed of so many people, filling everywhere, layers heaved upon layers. He knew what they were doing here, why they had come. He just let this strange feeling creeping in him.

He wanted to tell them what he did for them. He wanted everyone to remembered what he was going to say

"Can you feel them?" Harry said, his voice surprising light. His eyes seem to have accepted the fate.

"Can you feel them?" He repeated in a slightly confident voice, "All these people who lived in terror of you and your judgment. All these people whose ancestors devoted themselves, sacrificed themselves… to fight against you. Can you feel them singing?" Harry's eyes closed in the rhythm, last part spoken only in a soft whisper. Harry instinctively knew that he was not alone and it gave him strange sense of comfort.

The song was beautiful as well as terrifying. He couldn't help but get lost in the tune.

"I have been in your mind. I KNOW you." Harry said, a lone tear sliding down his cheek.

Lord Voldemort smile slipped. His wrath burned through the brand he'd marked on Death Eaters.

"Oh, you like to think you're a God. Well, you're not a God — you're just a parasite! Eaten out with jealousy and envy, and longing for the lives of others. You FEED on them." Harry said pointing finger first at Voldemort and then at others surrounding him.

"On the memory of love, and loss, and birth, and death, and joy, and sorrow…so…SO…come on then, TAKE mine. Take. My. Life." Harry said looking directly at Voldemort. His eyes bared his soul, his hurt so much hurt and pain mixed with the weight of a lifetime.

"Because I have lived my entire life devised by mind of a MAD MAN! And I've watched his plans crumble and burn till nothing remained. NO ONE! JUST ME! I have seen things you WOULDN'T BELIEVE AND I HAVE LOST THINGS YOU WILL NEVER UNDERSTAND." Harry's fists clenched, so tight that it drew blood. His face was now a pool of tears, sliding down effortlessly.

"SO COME ON THEN! TAKE IT! HAVE IT!" Harry raised his hands dramatically up to his shoulders, parallel to the ground.

In that moment, almost all the death eaters looked down on this one boy, who had been a constant thorn on Dark Lord's side. Who was the reason they had endured so many crucio's. They looked at him with regret. They had expected a fight. But the fight here was . . . Different.

It didn't bring joy or glory at what they did.

"Avada Kadavra." Voldemort shouted out. Every pore of his body was charged with the energy of the spell. The body fell down, lifeless, with a frozen smile on his face. He appeared content.

* * *

He stood up and looked around. Was he in some great Room of Requirement? The longer he looked, the more there was to see. A great domed glass roof glittered high above him in sunlight. Perhaps it was a palace. All was hushed and still, except for those odd thumping and whimpering noises coming from somewhere close by in the mist. . . .

Harry turned slowly on the spot, and his surroundings seemed to invent themselves before his eyes. A wide-open space, bright and clean, a hall larger by far than the Great Hall, with that clear domed glass ceiling. It was quite empty. He was the only person there, except for— He recoiled. He had spotted the thing that was making the noise. It had the form of a small, naked child, curled on the ground, its skin raw and rough, flayed-looking, and it lay shuddering under a seat where it had been left, unwanted, studded out of sight, struggling for breath.

He was afraid of it. Small and fragile and wounded though it was, he did not want to approach it. Nevertheless he drew slowly nearer, ready to jump back at any moment. Soon he stood near enough to touch it, yet he could not bring himself to do it. He felt like a coward. He ought to comfort it, but it repulsed him.

"You cannot help." He spun around. Albus Dumbledore was walking toward him, sprightly and upright, wearing sweeping robes of midnight blue.

"Harry," He spread his arms wide, and his hands were both whole and white and undamaged. "You wonderful boy. You brave-"

"Albus Dumbledore!" Harry snarled. His emerald eyes showed undisguised fury. It was like viewing them as bright orbs of Green. Dumbledore's smile faltered. He took a step back. Harry took a step forward and just in a moment, he was standing right in front of the old wizard.

A quick punch to stomach and Dumbledore was bent over clutching his gut. A swift elbow to the side of the head saw him sprawled over the floor.

"Harry I… I…"

"You don't get to use MY NAME!" Harry roared, clutching his robes. He raised his neck above the ground and promptly smashed it to the white floor. A second later, he grabbed Dumbledore's neck and stood up, holding him at his eye level.

"TELL ME WHY YOU DID THAT AND I MIGHT NOT SNAP YOUR NECK!" Harry said in a steely voice. The first layer of manipulations had shattered and Harry saw the memories buried in his mind.

Dumbledore knew by now something had tossed his manipulations aside. Something had changed in Harry. He wasn't under his influence now. He was something else. And for the first time in his life, he decided to tell the truth.

"I was ordered to." Dumbledore choked out, his head still spinning.

"By whom?" Harry asked.

"I can't tell you that. I'm still working for him!" Dumbledore blurted out.

"Worry about me, Dumbledore. Just worry about me right now!" Harry said menacingly. A moment later, Dumbledore's hand was twisted and his elbow was snapped backwards. Dumbledore howled in pain and slumped on the floor, cradling his elbow.

He grabbed Dumbledore's elbow and pressed it, deliberately.

"Who?"

"Nicholas Flamel." Dumbledore said in a pained voice.

Nicholas Flammell? Harry whispered the name. He helped save his stone and he did…this? But why? What? How?

"He's Dead! You told me that!" Harry rounded up on Dumbledore. "Answer ME!"

"I lied…" Dumbledore said softly and chuckled a bit, in spite of himself. "He's always been around, just not…here."

"No…" Harry said softly. "You lie!" Harry said.

Dumbledore simply chuckled more. "I have lied to you your whole life, Harry. If it gives you any happiness-" Dumbledore practically spat the word out, "I am speaking truth now." Dumbledore moaned out in pain as pressure on his disjointed elbow increased.

"Ahhh!" Dumbledore gave out a whimper as Harry let go of the arm and stand in front of him.

"It's bigger than you." Dumbledore tired to sit and then stand up, "It's bigger than me! Don't you see, he told me you'd come for me! And I will have to tell you, the truth."

Harry paused. Dumbledore seemed to have lost it! Not that he had any marbles in his brain to begin with.

"And he did all this!" Harry said, waving his arm around. "Controlled and manipulated everything in my life?"

He now doubted if his friends were really his. Dumbledore looked like he'd been caught in the headlights.

"No…" Dumbledore mumbled. His eyes looked down but Harry wasn't fooled. He wasn't going to be guilt trip by this man.

"SPEAK UP!" He hissed, digging his fingers into Dumbledore's broken elbow. Dumbledore gave a primal groan on pain.

"NO." Dumbledore gasped, "He said. . ." Dumbledore looked right into Harry's eyes and went on, "He said you needed to feel the ultimate betrayal."

"No." Harry whispered. Something happened. Memories of past, buried came floating forth, shattering all the illusions in his mind. Killing curse was the best way to remove all blocks. No one knew that because no one had ever lived to tell the tale. The hold on Dumbledore faltered.

No. No. No. No. No. No! He grabbed his head, and the scenes started playing in his mind. Some of the things he had ignored, some he had 'Forgot' and some he hadn't questioned. The Dursleys, Weasleys, Ron? Fred, Hermione? No he couldn't. They wouldn't do that to him, would they? Not him. Never him! But his memories didn't lie. It was too much.

He shook his head furiously. Tears glistened on his cheeks; he felt heavy and collapsed on his knees.

"Was any of it real?" He asked, wishing in desperation for it to be anything else but.

"It was, in some part, yes." Dumbledore seemed to have recovered. His hands appeared to have healed. He towered over Harry. "They all were . . . are, still. It took some time before they became what they are. I had to work very hard for it." There was pride in his voice as well as guilt.

"Ronald molded in fourth year, following your selection in Tri-Wizard Tournament. Hermione in 5th. Ginny was perfect from the start even the Dursleys. Severus was the ever eager one. Molly was a sheer genius in shaping their boys. I applaud her even now…"

Harry felt like he had been punched in the gut. Rage and Betrayal battled in him questing for dominance. His mind was a mess. Clarity withered down, as if, a search light had suddenly dimmed.

"The Grangers… They never made it to Australia." Harry stated, wondering what else was untrue.

"No." Dumbledore added simply, "Severus had his loyalty questioned. I had to . . . ensure."

A bout of sick fury convulsed in him, making him tighten the grip on his hair and he let out a primal roar.

"I'll kill you for it." He shouted.

Dumbledore laughed outright. The laugh was different from Voldemort's. His laugh was of menace and fury. But Dumbledore's was of surety, and of victory.

It made him so much angry. A switch seemed to flip in his mind, and the whole focus in him was to annihilate Dumbledore. A raging fire, so intense, so hot sizzled in him. Magical aura begged to attack him, burn him alive. There wouldn't be any ash remained behind.

Harry Potter was in rage.

"I'm already dead." Dumbledore said, oblivious to the mounting rage in the boy. "How can you possibly harm me?"

Harry's eyes smoldered with power. Green glow burned brighter than it did ever before.

"I wouldn't be so sure." A cold smile curled his lips and the magic of his struck Dumbledore.

The Black fire seems to contrast the white surroundings. Dumbledore's body, or whatever Dumbledore was in this place, this moment, burned. Harry could hear the screams from Dumbledore's mouth which, a moment later silenced. Harry just gave out a maniac laugh as he watched, with tears in his eyes, the annihilation of Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

He just sat there, laughing senseless at everything around. Soon, his laughter died down and he began to sob.

Outside in the forest, Voldemort's curse had struck true. The green light, filled with Death Magic, connected with Harry Potter and Voldemort watched in satisfaction as the brat fall down.

He was surprised when, the jet of light, from the killing curse continued to remain, somehow connected to the body on the ground. Voldemort fueled the curse, thinking that he needed a bit more to kill the Potter brat.

But after 10 seconds of it, he began to sweat. He tried to lift the curse but he didn't know how! Seconds turned into full minutes and Voldemort was on his knees. His magical core was almost drained!

The death eaters around began feeling the awful stench of Death all around. It was a strange sight. The green light was tethered to the body on the ground. A moment later, Dark Lord was on his knees! What was happening?

Voldemort tapped into the magical core of his followers. He wasn't fazed, much. He had hundreds of them. He was sure it was a matter of time before the curse would complete. Around him, his followers started dropping!

Rowle was to go first, and then came Malfoy and then, the rest of the circle began dropping down like dried leaves! Some seem too scared to be here but before they decided to dis-apparate, they too dropped down.

Voldemort didn't know that maintaining a curse for that long took great amount of power. Further, keeping it for every second longer required magical power at an exponential rate.

"NO!" Voldemort shrilled. He dropped the wand, but for some inexplicable reason, the curse did not die.

"NO!" Voldemort shouted once more, backing away from wand while trying to flicking his hands trying to end the connection. It wasn't long before every death eater collapsed on the ground.

"Why won't you just DIE!?" Voldemort said, giving everything to the spell. A spell he had loved and used so many times. A spell now was refusing to die. The irony was lost on Voldemort.

He collapsed on the ground a moment later. The spell died a moment later when there was nothing left to fuel it. Voldemort and his Death eaters had no magic left in their core and were now, for all intent and purposes, squibs.

A moment later, Dementors glided over sucking out the souls from everything around.


	2. Beginning Well almost!

**A/N: **I'm floored by the reviews and the alerts this story has received. No pressure huh! :) Anyways, onto the next chapter. The chapter is a bit short in my opinion but sheds light on some things. Also, I didn't want to spoil the overall tone of the chapter. This completes a short arc in the story.

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"It was a mistake," you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you."  
― David Levithan, _The Lover's Dictionary_

* * *

Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter or Avengers. Just writing it for fun!

* * *

The wand. The cloak. The stone.

The Hallows.

A true mystery if one sits for a while to ponder on it. A long-lost lore, twisted an turned in so many ways that only a shadow of truth remained left.

And just behind the shadows, Death aches to take her essence back to her. But some things are just never that simple.

What's that saying again?

It's easy to break a glass but bloody hard to fix it…?

Some things aren't just mended back together again; so was the case with the Deathly Hallows. The cloak rested in the back pocket of his, and the wand lay on the ground, carelessly thrown. The stone rested on his finger; black contrasting with the pale skin of his fingers. Even more so now that the crack had mysteriously disappeared.

And if one looked real closely, you could see the black mist swirling inside, making the markings on the stone that much brighter and bold. The deathly magic of the curse had soaked it all up like a sponge.

A moment later, it sank inside the body.

* * *

Back in the limbo, Harry lay on the ground, doing nothing. He stared at the white mist above, not thinking of anything in particular. He had no purpose left! He didn't know where to go!

What was this place anyways?

An indefinite amount of time passed. It really was difficult to know feel time moving here. Around him, the fluid grew more lustrous and blacker. It was hard to miss at first, but then, it caught Harry's eye.

He got up instantly. He knew something was wrong with him, the moment he felt betrayed. The feeling intensified when he felt something around him. He felt different.

No, he was different!

The emotions of love, hate and even betrayal had diminished. His sense of perception enlarged and so did his general sense. He could suddenly tell or know what to do next. At least here, in this very moment, he could.

He tilted his head sideways and exclaimed softly.

"Hallows?"

It took a curious shape, a symbol of inverted Hallow.

The pool of black thick liquid had surrounded him. In it, was the undiluted, pure essence of Deathly energy. Harry felt it calling him, enticing him with its chilling magical tendrils. Harry could only feel a gentle touch of cold and the peace radiating off the symbol. Peace and quiet are two different things really. Back in the life, he had plenty of quiet time when he needed.

The cupboard under the stairs at night, for one. When the Dursleys went out, which happened a lot frequent over the time when he was five, for other. But this. . . quietness was now accompanied with a soft gentle thrum of something indescribable and it made him light and fresh.

It was taking a breath of fresh air and exhaling out gently. You could almost hear your heart thumping with you at that moment.

"The Hallows are mine."

Harry gasped in fright and shock, after the soft exclamation. The fluid roped its way in him. For every possible opening, it dug its way in, and Harry felt something shift inside… or was it around inside him?

If Death could come, Harry would be explained that his soul just shifted towards the other-world. Half there and half anchored to the land of living.

If Death could be here, Harry would be explained what this really was. The three hallows were his and he had control over the Death and all it entailed. But for one thing, Death could go anywhere but limbo. And that was where the newly crowned Master of Death stood.

So, Death stood, at the other side of the platform, should his master choose to come for a visit.

Instinctively, Harry faded out of the limbo, into the living world.

* * *

The Light Lord, felt a sense of loss at Albus Dumbledore's destruction. But it was gone the other moment. His manipulations had proved fruitful and his servant had done its job well. Albeit bit crude, but yes, it was done. All these things, he watched from above.

With a blink of an eye he was in the forest. His face showed surprise for a moment at the litters of body on the ground. Dementors banished with a wave of his hand.

_No need for more company than what was necessary. _

A groan sounded in the distant and Nicholas turned.

"Why?" Harry asked calmly. Everything was different around him. He felt disconnected. The trees and lifeless bodies around him didn't hold his interest any longer. His magic sized up the man, no, a Lord… god… something else, standing few feet away.

"Why what?" Nicholas asked, giving Harry his undivided attention. "Why I ordered your life to be manipulated? Why did I let this mindless destruction go on? Why did I not intervene?"

"Why?" Harry asked, more forcefully. Magic laced words had a compulsive effect that could make any wizard blabber things asked. Nicholas shrugged it off.

"Because it was needed. Because it was my duty." He said calmly.

"What right-"

"I had every right!" Nicholas snapped. The boy in front of him was acting childish. By now he should know what had occurred. Was it possible that he didn't know? Nicholas denied his suspicions instantly.

_He had every right?_

Anger climbed a notch. His aura flared, launching an attack.

He wasn't a pawn anymore to be thrown around. He wasn't a sacrificial lamb anymore, offered at a whim of others. Magic lashed towards the man, who in Harry's eyes was the cause of so much suffering and hurt.

Nicholas shrugged the blow off and responded with his own. In a moment, Harry was on the ground thrashing wildly from the pain and bondage.

"You are about to break several treaties with me!" Nicholas snapped angrily. Harry stared back at him, defiantly.

"Do you wish to start a war with me, Lord Harry?" Nicholas pressed. He frowned when he saw a flicker of surprise on his face. It only served to confirm his suspicions.

"Lord Harry. I am not your enemy. I never was." Nicholas said firmly. The magic in his words confirmed the truth and now, Harry was more bewildered than ever.

"Release me then!" Harry commanded. Nicholas did.

"Do you not know what you are now?" Nicholas asked softly.

"I am different," Harry replied. No way was he going to tell the truth.

"Yes, but different how?" Nicholas said and continued, "Don't ask me, I don't know which! But if I had to guess… well… I would say that you are something like Dark Lord. Not the theatrical version, mind you. But you certainly have the flare for it." Nicholas muttered under his breath.

"What of Voldemort?" Harry asked calmly. Nothing concerned him more than finding out what the man was going on about.

"He never was… He was a failure, more like, in his effort. Mere wizards could never be a true Lord." Nicholas dismissed them as if they were flies hovering over rotten meat. "We are simply put. . . Greater Beings."

There was absolute silence.

"Voldemort was _your_ responsibility. His minions were _your _responsibility." Nicholas said. His tone was certainly accusing. What was he getting at?

Harry wondered.

Harry would have broken down and cried to his heart's content if he wasn't different. Now, he just felt a faint inkling of guilt, so little, that he brushed it off.

"The prophecy was never true?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

"It came true, Halloween 1981. Dumbledore came to me seeking answers about your survival." Nicholas chucked.

"Your discovery was a pleasant shock. A surprise! It was a reluctant duty I had to do. . . To make you shed your human shell." Nicholas grimaced. "Dumbledore was all too eager to comply. Of course he didn't know what this was all about." At this Nicholas's tone turned grave, "And you destroyed him! A servant of mine."

Harry shrugged, "He deserved much more suffering. I was merciful." Harry looked at him pointedly.

"Nothing much to add after that. So began, your life, your years in Hogwarts. I knew Albus would pull it off and. . .he did."

"The stone was never real?" Harry asked.

"No… Mortals cannot understand Immortality. Stone proved a useful device to state the obvious."

"What about Perenelle?" Harry grew curious. The man in front of him frowned in thought. He seemed reluctant to part with that information.

"She was the love of my life. It was most painful when she died, back in 1700's." Nicholas's face marred with grief. As much as he could muster, that is. Harry understood what Nicholas went through. In some ways grief was much deeper than Betrayal. Not that Harry cared for him, he was just curious.

"Who-"

"No one." Nicholas snapped. "Enough of this. I have gratified your curiosity too long. The obvious route for you would be going back in time and rectifying the mistakes."

"No!" Harry said softly. His magic laced the words letting Nicholas know he was determined not to. "I don't have strength for that. Not again." Harry's face was a mixture full of anguish.

"You must!" Nicholas magic laced words were much stronger. It made him flinch involuntarily.

"No." Harry stood his ground nevertheless.

"I have lost many people, Potter!" All sense of formality vanished just like that. He should've known that Nicholas Flamel was a twisted being.

"My people have suffered just because _you_ weren't strong enough to take care of _your_ responsibility! I will not have it!" Nicholas thundered. Harry almost cowed.

Almost.

"Why don't you admit that you fucked up! You placed too much faith on your _servant! _It really didn't have to be like this. . . this elaborate. The war should never had to go on that longer!_"_

_"_Oh it had to!" Nicholas grimaced again. "What do you think this is my first attempt to awaken you? We tried everything! From the hatred towards Dursleys to the grief over your Godfather! To the love for your friends and rage towards Voldemort! Nothing worked! Do you think I had an EASY TIME?" Nicholas voice got heavier and gruff at the end.

Harry's blood boiled. It was one thing to toy with mind of his and other to play with the lives of others in such twisted way.

_"_Whatever damage is done. . . will be fixed by sending back in time and you will _go back."_

"NO!" Harry's voice took an odd heavy tone. It was the tone that could stop people stop dead in their tracks. Stop trains speeding over three hundred miles an hour to a stop just like that. But Nicholas was utterly unaffected.

He was bound again and Nicholas began chanting in a strange hymn. It sounded ominous. This was soon confirmed by appearance of several people.

"I shall remember you, Nicholas. I shall remember you very well." Harry said in a soft hushed voice.

Nicholas turned and looked at him with a blank expression. He knew it was a thankless task. Even he hadn't forgiven that man who had awaken him. Not really. But after all this time he understood.

"Then remember that I am not your enemy. I never was." His tone was equally serious. Harry wanted to scoff at this. Being bound and forced to do some sort of ritual wasn't the friendliest way of giving that expression.

"Hit him!" Nicholas said casually at the end of the chant.

"Avada Kedavra!" A nondescript voice cursed. Harry fell on the ground by the sudden influx of energy.

The very blood of his had changed. And the killing curse made him feel filled with energy. He never had felt so full! He was likely to explode if they kept hitting it with the delicious curse.

* * *

He was tumbling, ricocheting along the thin tunnel that reminded him of rubber and plastic. And what was up with the sounds all around him? He couldn't control, he couldn't concentrate. He was just drifting off, to some parts he had never been.

He fell through nothing and everything. The stars, the moon, they slid past him exploding before him. He had been left in the Darkness, but there was no Death come to greet him. Only pain…terrible pain…he dwelled in the shadow of the human heart and the twilight of the night. In this Darkness, in this nothing…he was no one…he was nothing…he was the darkness…the darkness was him…and it numbed the pain.

His ethereal body disentangled from his gross, and he watched dispassionately as it carried off to away from him. A moment later, the time-tube gave a jerk, and he fell sideways. Out of the time vortex.

* * *

A/N: Harry Potter fan-fiction is large enough and the cross-overs associated with are even more so. I would like to hear your opinion, whatever it may be. So press that button and Review!


	3. Not another Almost Similar Universe!

A/N: Ok. A lot of people are confused by the turn of events. I was vague, I admit, but a lot of you have got it as well. Nicholas was playing a risky gamble which involved 'Awakening' Harry Potter. Something along the lines of making him feel a powerful emotion until the other side of him emerges. Anyways, it isn't important now. Harry Potter's more than MoD. As to why, Nicholas didn't take the Hallows for himself, it is also explained here.

A/N 1: Another short chapter! But I think it was the right moment to stop it there. This starts a new arc in the story.

* * *

"Fourth Doctor: You know, the very powerful and the very stupid have one thing in common: they don't alter their views to fit the facts; they alter the facts to fit their views."

* * *

He opened his eyes again to see bright morning sunshine. Everything was so bright, so real and so very good. He tried to get up and then. . . he realized where he was. Moreover, who he was.

Small feet wiggled in attempt to lift his weight. The cot looked like a prison that moment. His memories now had huge holes in it, knowing only feeling associated with each of them. Each of the faces.

He didn't know where he was. He didn't know why he was here. He did the only thing possible for him to do, at that moment.

He wailed. Small body had its own cooping mechanism, after all.

Something appeared in front of him. The cooing sounds felt so good; he didn't know why. Perhaps it was her voice. There was warmth in it, with just a causal mixture of humor and love. Her words were music to his ears and he listened to with wonder. Her bright green eyes stared lovingly back at him.

In that moment, powerful emotion surged in him. He cried out.

"MAMA!"

The next moment, he was picked up by her, and carried downstairs. He could understand the language but at the same time he couldn't. He felt like he knew this and at the same time the words seemed . . . new.

"James! He called my name! He called me mama!" The excitement echoed through the house.

* * *

Death had finally tracked down the body, or, what was left of Harry Potter. Her eyes fell on the Deathly Hallows and picked them up quickly. Her elation turned to a huge frown when she couldn't detect her essence in them.

_What magic did her lord wield?_

She wanted her gifts back. But her lord had it, wherever he was.

Many had gathered Hallows before. It wasn't that easy as it looked. It was a clever plan devised by Death when she found out that she couldn't put her pieces back together just the way it had been before…

So, she moved on to the next best thing. Hallows were a trap for the people who thought they were foolish to master Death.

Master her.

She could reap anyone; she had dragged many tyrants into the land of dead. She was reason Gods feared her. Feared Death. She had the pleasure of _ruling_ them. No one was greater than Death herself.

But here was something she had never expected.

She now regretted playing a risky gambit with Peverell's. And now _He _had succeeded and thus he was her Master.

_No matter. I will find him eventually._

* * *

"Stand aside, girl. Stand ASIDE!" The peace of the house was no more. Just five minutes before, they were having a wonderful time. And now, James Potter was dead. Others were soon to follow.

"Avada Kedavra!" Lily fell on the ground. She did not move. Childish frown marred Harry's face. He had grown close to them. He had just begun to understand where he was.

"Avada Kedavra!" Voldemort intoned, with careful precision. Harry's soul yearned to catch the jet of light. He was drawn to the Death magic but something prevented the light from hitting him.

For a moment, it looked like Harry Potter had deflected the curse back to him. His hand was raised at the time the curse got deflected and the curse scar got seared in his hand. Voldemort didn't have time to respond as the curse struck him. He just withered away. There wasn't even a body left.

The backlash of the magic blew the beams and columns in the room and the house. Sound of explosion was heard as far as the end of the town. The ceiling crumbled on the cot and Harry's neck got crushed due to the weight of it.

He died the next moment.

* * *

_My Lord. _

Death murmured as she held the baby in her arms. Her lord opened his eyes and looked at her. Death had never seen such beautiful pair of eyes. His oval, chubby face seems to compliment such _wondrous_ eyes! She brought her lips forward and kissed his forehead.

Her lord's tiny hand caressed her cheeks. It made her feel so _deathly_ again. He had the hollows inside of him, in his real, ethereal body! Sighing, she turned her eyes, the exact shade of emerald as her lord.

_Take care of him._

Something ghostly whispered behind her. Death nodded and the ghost vanished, satisfied.

Her lord was back in the baby's body, the next moment. The crushed neck was fixed. Harry James Potter was alive under the rubble.

Days after, he would be heralded as the Boy-Who-Lived. Days after, Dumbledore would mistake the scar on forehead as something dark and sinister. Days after, he would link this with the word Horcrux. Days after, he would form a plan to sacrifice the boy for the Greater Good.

Days after, this world's Hallows would return to Master of Death, leaving empty shells behind.

* * *

Nicholas time traveled, just as he had subjected to Harry Potter. He didn't feel an ounce of remorse for it. It was, truly for the Greater Good. Albus's motto never felt more real than it had been, before.

He acknowledged many mistakes made by Albus, in the case of Harry Potter and they were not the one's Potter had told him. Voldemort was just a piece on the chess-board, having no real values once the true lords came to be.

Well, he thought as he landed on the solid ground and looked around. The business here would be swift and quick. Now that Lord Harry Potter was awake.

The dawn was near as Nicholas Flammel made its way to Number Four Privet Drive. There lay on the doorstep, encased in a basket, Harry James Potter. Nicholas frowned internally. By now, his past self should have figured out what had happened.

Alarm bells started blaring in his mind. Something was not right. Something was very wrong with this whole thing. His eyes roamed over the fragile body of the baby and fury welled in him.

Pieces of information suddenly fit in the puzzle. That smile he had given when he was hit with Kedavra made more sense.

Lord Harry Potter had escaped him, somehow. Nicholas didn't think it was possible but the brat had done it. And now, his one shot at fixing things had been ruined. The brat would continue to suffer as he had for the moment he would land in the forest.

And Nicholas… Nicholas couldn't do anything about it.

He couldn't even tell his other-self! Both of them now trapped in the eternal dance of cat and mouse. Well, more like elephant and the mouse really. But that was it!

He didn't have the strength to go back to the future. He was stuck here for the next possible decade. He looked up to the skies, with the cold hardness in his eyes and laughed.

* * *

Harry Potter waved his hand and wiggled his feet. It felt so trapped! That man, with a flowing white beard and blue eyes had done something to him. Despite his tiny age, he felt like he had worn a shirt too tight over his body. Shorts too felt the same way. He didn't like that man and neither the feeling of being so suffocated. He shouldn't have worn these clothes!

Due to his size, he failed to grasp the concept of garment sizes. It wasn't the garments that were suffocating him. They were comfortable and loose.

He grew irritated quite easily and he began to cry. So began the day where his new home would be a cupboard, hidden under the stairs. Petunia was soon irritated and angry at his constant crying. Vernon's short patience in spite of, the doctors couldn't find anything wrong with him.

And so, Petunia came to believe, that something was inherently wrong with him. His cries were ignored, for, they lost their loudness. Cranking T.V up to a suitable volume was easy enough and with time, the cries faded to what you might call- Background noise.

Just like every house has- that constant humming of the refrigerator, or the wooden board of the stairs in other. For some, it was the radio, switched on all the time. Here, in Number 4 Privet Drive, it was Harry Potter's cries mingled with the sounds of T.V.

Winters was a tough time to go through, if, you didn't have proper clothes or garments with you. Same was the case with a little boy named Harry Potter. Between the first year of his stay and the second, they had simply stopped caring. They didn't know what was wrong with him nor could they help him. For them, he was The-Boy-who-never-stops-crying.

This year's winter brought its fair share of cold. It seeped into his bones. At first he shivered and his teeth chattered. As the night grew darker, the cold started burning within him. He gave out a small whimper. He dreamt of warm fire in the fireplace.

The cold burned only for a while. After, he didn't have the strength to fight it anymore. First he got weak and drowsy, and then everything faded. He didn't feel pain toward the end.

Harry Potter died.

Petunia Dursley woke up, on a bright early morning without sporting her usual irritation. She hadn't felt this relaxed in years! Ever since- . . . . . .

Petunia yanked the door open to find him sleeping instead of bawling and a loud trumpet she had come to associate the boy with.

She sighed deeply. It had been hard work to get him weaned, toilet trained. Somewhere along the lines of 'trying' she had it with him. And then, one day, she found that shrieking raw in front of him managed to shut him up. Ever since then, she had been right sort of nasty with him. The toys wouldn't shut him up but proper amount of shouting worked wonders.

She thought of giving a short nudge stopped just short of touching him and withdrew her hand. No need to disturb the peace of the household. Without giving it a second thought, she rushed in the kitchen to make lovely breakfast for her family.

Only later in the day, Vernon received a call from a frantic Petunia informing him of the incident. They came to a decision soon enough. At night, Vernon had buried the boy in his back yard. He only had the strength to dig a grave of two or three meters deep. His strength had left him after digging for a meter, but, the thought of people finding out gave his plenty of encouragement to go on.

Plants and flowers grew in the garden, when, Petunia had grown them few months later. But no amount of fertilizer or seeds sown would grow in that four by four square feet patch.

Years went by and the death of a boy was forgotten. The small body of Harry James Potter had started to bleed since Vernon had dumped the body carelessly in the pit. A sharp stone had split open his head.

Blood pooled and absorbed in the wards. Albus Dumbledore placed more faith in his wards than the letters sent over by Arellabella Figg over the years. No, he was too busy cracking open Harry Potter's trust vault to give away prodigious amount of Galleons to Weasley's and gaining control of Potter's Wizengamot's seats.

* * *

_Back so soon? _

Harry turned towards the voice. A girl with equally bright green eyes stared back at him. Harry's eyes widened as he looked at her. Her cheekbones stood proud were the most prominent feature, followed by her soft, cute nose. Her hair was midnight black complimenting the paleness of her skin. There was only one word to describe her.

Hauntingly beautiful.

Harry blushed/grimaced. What to reply? How to reply? Was this his mother? It couldn't be. Her height was too small. But that eyes and that small nose. . . It reminded him of . . . her. Before he could answer,

_Come. _

Harry grabbed hold of her hand and walked towards a house. His heart warmed at her touch. Once in a while, she gave a small tug when he would fall slightly behind. He felt free and alive…?

_This is my home. You are welcome, always._

Harry gave a brilliant smile and followed her in.


End file.
